for the girl who flew alone for the first time

You’ll never know
how long I paused before texting you “Good night,”
or how that silence held
a hundred unsent sentences,
each beginning with
“I miss you.”

You say I’m brilliant-
but I edit your praise inside my mind,
soften it, doubt it,
like trimming fabric that doesn’t feel like mine.
Afraid you’ve mistaken glow for gold,
afraid I’ll disappoint you
once the light fades.

You talk about your year in Florence,
how you learned to make coffee like the locals,
I smile and nod.
I don’t tell you
I tasted my first latte
the week my scholarship came through.

I carry a quiet pride-
for climbing hills no one mapped,
for speaking in rooms
no one prepared me for.
But beside you,
I worry my steps still echo too loud,
still sound unsure.

I’m not afraid of love.
I’m afraid of being
the girl you grow out of,
like a thrifted coat-
warm, reliable,
but never quite tailored.

When you reached for my hand,
I didn’t speak.
I was busy asking myself
if someone like you
would really wait
for someone like me
to catch up.

REF: W-17062025-06